


Reflected

by ennejoy



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: The Golden Trio Era, Trans Character, Trans Female Character, Trans Hermione Granger, supportive friendships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-18
Updated: 2017-05-18
Packaged: 2018-11-02 03:34:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 918
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10936140
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ennejoy/pseuds/ennejoy
Summary: Seven months on estrogen, Hermione looks in a mirror.





	Reflected

She looked at herself in the full-length mirror standing on its three paws, in the corner of the tower room she shared with the two girls - the two _other_ girls, she added - and sighed at the reflection. Not yet.  
  
She remembered her first night at the girls' dormitory late last autumn. The ease of it, the comfort! In the three and a half years of nighttime sneaking up to use the toilet in the girls' tower - desperately not wanting anybody to wake up on her way there or later, climbing back the boys' stairs, heart sinking with every upward step - she had memorised the route, its trick stairs, squeaky floorboards and twisting corridors. Now the bathroom was waiting for her, only steps away! She still didn't dare to take it all for granted.  
  
And then there was the mirror.  
  
She had heard Harry tell about his and Ron's nocturnal wanderings in their first year and the unexpected delight of finding the Mirror of Erised. He had told her how Headmaster Dumbledore had described it as showing _"the deepest, most desperate desire of our hearts"_. Telling the story, Harry always wondered what other people saw in it; she had known exactly what it would be.  
  
It wasn't the Mirror of Erised she was looking at now. The mirror in the fourth year girls' dormitory was very ordinary and completely nonmagical, albeit very handsome. But in the last seven months, it had become something more for her, for Hermione.  
  
She had started her daily dose of estrogen exactly two hundred and eleven days ago. (She didn't count the days, not any longer, but weeks and months yes - and to be honest, she just _knew_ the number of the days too.) After the indescribable, blank, bland years of her waking puberty, the first pills, mail-ordered from a Muggle pharmacy and triple-checked by Madam Pomfrey - a blue one for the estrogen, a white one for blocking the poison, testosterone, from forming inside her - had brought a smile on her face, a fierce joy. Harry and Ron had been with her then, (they always were,) and she had let them see the raw emotion on her face, let them see her let go of control for a moment.  
  
Seven months. Thirty weeks' worth of mornings and evenings, passing the mirror on her way to bed or to breakfast, stealing a quick look in the hope of A Visible Change. Of course her hair had grown out, and to her surprise Crookshanks had started to behave towards her in a more loving fashion, craving scratches behind the ear far more than before. Her sweat had a different smell now, and she supposed Crookshanks' behavior could stem from that.  
  
But the change that she had hoped for, had longed for, would have _died_ for, had so far evaded her, and the mirror was a constant, unrelenting reminder of that. When she looked in it, she saw somebody else's face. It could have been her brother's, if she had had one, or a cousin's.  
  
Something was _happening_ now, though.  
  
She had looked away, just for a second, a bird flying past the window, and when she turned back to the mirror, she saw the tiniest flicker, the shortest flash, of a familiar face. Her face!  
  
She gasped and pressed her eyes closed, throwing her hands over them. Her heart was beating hard, her mind racing. Was it true? Was it, oh Merlin oh Morgana oh Sweet Tapdancing Whoever, was it true? Or could she have imagined it?  
  
She hesitated. The logical, calm voice in her head was trying to tell her that the only way forward was to open her eyes, lower her hands and look. She had always, _always_ trusted that voice. And yet...

 

* * *

 

Parvati coughed softly to let the other girl know she was there. Hermione was standing with her eyes clamped shut, her hands over her face, muttering something very fast. She went quiet as she heard the cough.  
  
"Hermione, are you all right?" Parvati took a tentative step forward. Hermione didn't speak, but there was an almost imperceptible shake of her head.  
  
"Can I come closer?"  
  
Another shake, a pause, and then - a very slight nod.  
  
"I'm going to turn you away from that mirror, okay? And then I'll hug you like that last time. Is that all right?"

  
Hermione felt Parvati's arm around her, as she was guided away from the mirror. She lowered her hands but kept her eyes shut. She heard the other girl speak in a low murmur.  
  
"I don't know what you saw in there but - would it help if we looked again, together this time?"  
  
Hermione didn't want to share this moment. She thought of the budding hope that would soon drain away, like the final, already cold remains of a lovely long bath. She had had a glimpse of the future and that would be enough. She would not look, not now, not with Parvati there. She would not...

Parvati saw the slow, deliberate nod. She took Hermione by the arm, and they walked back to the mirror. Parvati flicked her wand wordlessly, and they sat down on a velvet cushion large enough for both of them. Hermione opened her eyes slowly...

They were still sitting on the cushion when Lavender arrived at the top of the stairs, yawning hugely. Hermione's nose was almost touching the glass now. Her cheeks were wet and there was a light in her eyes. Parvati was stroking her hair.


End file.
